recognizing these pilferings from what he had grown to regard as his own
treasury, Christopher's fingers began to nestle with great vigour in the
palms of his hands. Three or four minutes passed, when the unknown rival
gave a last glance at the windows, and walked away. Christopher did not
like the look of that walk at all--there was grace enough in it to
suggest that his antagonist had no mean chance of finding favour in a
woman's eyes. A sigh, too, seemed to proceed from the stranger's breast;
but as their distance apart was too great for any such sound to be heard
by any possibility, Christopher set down that to imagination, or to the
brushing of the wind over the trees.

The lighted windows went out one by one, and all the house was in
darkness. Julian then walked off himself, with a vigour that was
spasmodic only, and with much less brightness of mind than he had
experienced on his journey hither. The stranger had gone another way,
and Christopher saw no more of him. When he reached Sandbourne, Faith
was still sitting up.

'But I told you I was going to take a long walk,' he said.

'No, Christopher: really you did not. How tired and sad you do
look--though I always know beforehand when you are in that state: one of
your feet has a drag about it as you pass along the pavement outside the
window.'

'Yes, I forgot that I did not tell you.'

He could not begin to describe his pilgrimage: it was too silly a thing
even for her to hear of.